


We've Got The Lights

by hostagesfic



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aftercare, Light Dom/sub, Light restraint, M/M, Overstimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:14:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostagesfic/pseuds/hostagesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing about the zippers is, Louis can get at Harry's dick and then pull down the top to touch his nipples, too. It’s brilliant, really, and it works especially well when they’ve been hanging out with the boys in Liam’s hotel room, huddling around Zayn’s robot and throwing popcorn at each other and jumping on the beds and practicing their bows for the Japanese populace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We've Got The Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Largely based on the existence of [these](http://25.media.tumblr.com/9819d0378cbaae4a9b530829bd441f41/tumblr_mgs9qtLr291rqv2jbo1_500.jpg) [photos](http://24.media.tumblr.com/552fc9d844f81f77b575ade5d90e0a83/tumblr_mgsa1wHCo21rqv2jbo1_500.jpg). And the fact that these onesies have double zippers. Title from Pioneers by The Lighthouse and The Whaler. Also at [LJ](http://hostagesfic.livejournal.com/3648.html).

The thing about the zippers is, Louis can get at Harry's dick and then pull down the top to touch his nipples, too. It’s brilliant, really, and it works especially well when they’ve been hanging out with the boys in Liam’s hotel room, huddling around Zayn’s robot and throwing popcorn at each other and jumping on the beds and practicing their bows for the Japanese populace. Now, Louis’ dragged Harry back to their room by the wrist; Harry lumbers along behind him not unlike a small, sleepy bear cub, except for how he’s a good head taller than Lou, and his shoulders go on forever. But the zippers: Louis can just push Harry over onto their mattress and pull one zipper up and the other down, and there he is. 

“I think I like Japan,” Harry grins, a hand spread on Louis’ side. “Everybody is polite. It’s good.”

“You _would_ like that,” Louis smirks, petting at Harry’s hip, swiping his thumb over the tattoo there. “What’s it- how d’you say it, again?”

Harry licks his lips and then says, slow and clear, “Arigato gozaimasu.” It’s not perfect, and he laughs a little before he can finish. “I don’t- I really don’t wanna like, butcher it, though.”

“Sounds good t’me,” Louis grins, and squeezes Harry’s side, spreading his other hand over Harry’s lower left nipple, fingertips close to the larger, but not quite touching. He likes touching Harry like this, almost-teasing but nice, just working him up a bit. “ _Look_ good to me, Haz, like a princess today.”

Laughing, Harry brings a hand up to his cheek, flutters his eyelashes at Louis. “Thank you,” he hums, shudders when Louis drags his fingernails over his skin. “Y’look good, Lou.”

Louis hums, turns his head just enough to press his lips to Harry’s palm, hum his appreciation of the compliment. Then he bites at the thick heel of his hand and leans away, "put your hands back in your pockets, love, yeah?"

Harry draws his lower lip into his mouth and nods, slides his hands into the pockets at either side of the zipper running down his chest. The inside of the pockets is soft, warms his hands up; he had slipped out of his clothes and into the onepiece as soon as they got to the hotel, zipping it up to his collarbones.

“Yeah,” Louis repeats, “that’s good- just gotta keep ‘em there, now.” He lets his finger brush over Harry’s nipple for the first time, just a sweep across and then a drag of his fingernail as he pulls back, watches Harry’s chest rise and fall with it. “Gonna jerk you off just like this,” he says, keeping his voice low, giving Harry a small smile. “Sound good?”

Harry nods, adds a rough, “Yeah, Lou, sounds. Yeah.” He’s distracted already, breathing deep and shuddery, and he curls his hands into fists in his pockets.

“It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?” Louis observes, runs his fingers through Harry’s tousled hair. Outside their window, Tokyo is all blinking, colorful lights and tall buildings, the sounds of cars and people far away. Harry nods in response, and the motion makes Louis’ fingers pull at his hair.

Louis bites his lip, tightens his grip on the wavy, tousled curls at Harry’s temple. “Wish we could fuck, I’d love to- put you down for a bit. Don’t think either of us’re up for that, though.” He presses his thumb into Harry’s hip, apology and promise.

Harry is hazy around the edges, anyway, from exhaustion and residual jetlag. “Not now,” he shakes his head, jerks his arm to pull his right hand out of its pocket and catches himself. This is good, enough; he’ll take whatever Louis gives him, really.

Louis nods, and looks down between them, the first time he’s acknowledged Harry’s cock. He drags his eyes up Harry’s torso to raise his eyebrows at him. “Konnichi _wa._ ”

Helpless, Harry bursts out laughing. “You’re awful,” he giggles, bares his teeth up at Louis and resolutely _doesn’t_ pull him in by the shoulders. He’s more than half hard by now, under Louis’ gaze and because of his teasing, and he can feel the cool metal zipper teeth against his prick.

Louis tweaks his nipple and walks his fingers down Harry’s stomach, poking him just beside the belly button. He eases the bottom zipper up a bit more to give himself room to work, and pulls Harry’s cock free, curling both hands around it. He likes how it looks- not that he’d say- how small his fingers seem, wrapped around Harry’s prick. Rubbing his right thumb just under the head, he gives him a couple slow pumps. “Get hard f’me, Haz,” he says, “c’mon.”

“Well on my way,” Harry groans. His fingernails must be leaving little indents in his palms, with how hard he’s squeezing, his arms stiff. “ _Please_ , Lou.”

“Like it when you get all thick an’ red an’ wet for me,” Louis says, softer, moves his hands just off-rhythm of each other, squeezing first around the base with his left, and then twisting and squeezing below the head with his right. It makes Harry’s hips stutter and his stomach has gone tense, and Louis lets himself feel a little bit proud.

“Louis,” Harry whines, shifts his hips impatiently. “Lou, c’n- it’s. It’s dry,” he says, chews on his lower lip, swollen, and he hasn’t even been kissed on the lips yet.

“Princess,” Louis murmurs, and leans forward over Harry’s chest. “Lick,” he says, and holds up both his hands, right in Harry’s face. 

Harry licks across Louis’ palms, flattens his tongue messily against his fingers and feels sleazy, sloppy, but knows Lou won’t mind. And really, he could keep going, maybe suck a finger or two- but Louis pulls his hands away with a poorly disguised shudder.

“‘s quite enough, Harold,” he says, voice a little edged, and his hands are tighter on Harry’s dick now, giving him a firm twist below the crown before sliding his palm up to rub around the head. “Need anythin’ more p’raps you could just be nice and hurry up an’ come.” It comes out a little harsher than he intends, but he meets Harry’s eyes and gives him a little nod, just to be sure he gets how it was meant.

Grunting, Harry pulls up his knees- or tries, anyway; it’s hard with Louis half-sitting on his lap and flicking his hip, stopping the one hand he leaves on Harry’s cock. 

“No,” he says, firm, “stay still,” and as much as it’s frustrating, it makes Harry’s prick twitch, precome beading at the slit. “There we go,” Louis praises him, rubbing his palm over the head again to spread the extra bit of wetness down the shaft. He gives Harry a couple more long tugs before reaching up with one hand to rub at his nipples; the hand still on his cock going tight around the head, blunt fingernail just pressing at the slit. 

“Lou,” Harry whines, twists his fingers up inside his pockets, and there’s a desperate edge to it, almost panicked. “I’m- that’s-”

“I know,” Louis says, gentle as he can be with his hand working Harry’s cock roughly, fingers tight around his nipple. “S’okay, love, c’mon.”

Huffing through his nose, Harry tries to focus on- anything, really, to keep his hands in his pockets and keep his legs from thrashing and let himself go, just like Louis wants. He tips his head back and moans, and Louis doesn’t stop touching his chest when he pushes up against his hand, just _pulls_ Harry’s nipple, and Harry comes with a choked sound.

Louis presses his dick up against his stomach, palm over the head in a last-ditch effort to keep the onesie _mostly_ clean, and just cups him through it. Usually he’d be leaning down to lick at the throbbing vein on the underside, or just jerking him until Harry bats his hand away, but with what he’s got in mind, he can let this one go easy.

“That was lovely,” he says, when Harry’s eyelids flutter open. “Thank you, Haz.”

“Polite,” Harry croaks, tries to steady his breathing, wind himself down. His hair’s half in his face, sweaty, and he feels overheated in the long-sleeved onesie. “Can I-” he lifts his hand but leaves it in his pocket, still, doesn’t dare pull it out with the scheming, determined look Louis is giving him.

“What do you think?” Louis asks. “I’m gonna jerk you off, d’you think you can keep them down without the pockets?”

Harry furrows his brows. “But you just- I mean, I.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Problem, Curly?”

Shaking his head, Harry pulls his hands out, stretches his fingers, and shoves them back in the pockets. “C’n I have a kiss, please?”

“Course.” Louis scoots forward, leaning over Harry, and tangles both hands in his hair, thumbs rubbing at the hinges of his jaw as he kisses him softly. Harry’s forehead has gone damp and shiny with sweat, and Louis is so in love with him, has to close his eyes against it even as he pulls back. He takes a breath. “I’m going to sit on your legs, since you couldn’t keep ‘em still before, okay?”

“Okay,” Harry nods, licks over his lips like he’s chasing the taste of Louis. It’s steadying, when Louis settles astride his legs, knees bracketing his hips.

“Good,” Louis confirms, and spreads his hands on Harry’s lower stomach, thumbs brushing through the few hairs leading down from his belly button. “I like it,” he tells Harry, jutting his chin to indicate how closely Harry’s shaved at the moment. “Makes me wanna just go down on you forever, let you fuck my mouth.” 

“Well,” Harry sighs, grins at Louis idiotically. Really, Louis is the reason he even does it. He’s about to voice his appreciation, too, for the moment Louis has given him to recover from his first orgasm, when Louis swipes his hand through the come on his skin and wraps it tightly around his dick. “Shit, _Lou_.”

“Shhh,” Louis mumbles, “You’re okay, s’okay. Breathe, c’n do it.” He gives a slow pull to Harry’s cock, pulling the foreskin up and then dragging it back down, exposing the head. It’s swollen dark red and there’s still come smeared over it, and Louis licks his lips.

It stings; Harry is oversensitive and the touch is uncomfortable, makes him want to jerk away, but just as overpowering is the desire to do what Louis wants him to. He bites down on his lip and scratches at his own stomach through the fabric inside the pockets, tries to look down his own body and see where Louis is stroking him, trying to bring him back to full hardness.

“Yeah,” Louis says, keeping his hand moving in steady, tight jerks- he doesn’t touch the head though, doesn’t think Harry could quite handle that yet. Much as he’s pretty when he’s torn apart, Louis doesn’t ever want to actually break him. “You can do it, you know you can, and it’s always so nice the second time, Haz. If you c’n come for me, I’ll let you do it on my face this time.” 

Harry times his breathing with Louis’ strokes, screws his eyes shut until the discomfort is offset by pleasure. “Wanna,” he hums, belated, blinks up at Louis. “Yeah, I. Please.” He tries shifting his legs a little and Louis just pushes his bum down against his thighs, shaking his head.

“Gotta stay still for me, love.” He flicks his hair out of his eyes and rubs at Harry’s side with one hand, keeping the rhythm on Harry’s prick with the other. “Think you’ll have enough to get me messy?”

Whining, Harry twists his fingers up in his pockets again. He won’t be surprised if he finds a hole in one of them later. “Unfair,” he mumbles, tips his head to the side and bares his neck. He _wants_ so badly, and what Louis is giving him oscillates between too much and not enough, his sharp pulls and twists, the way he rocks a little against Harry’s thighs.

“Trying to help, to be fair,” Louis says, and closes his eyes, just takes in what he can of Harry’s body through his fingers, the sounds he’s making and the way if he inhales deeply he can smell him, sharp and a little bitter, drying tacky on his stomach and still wet on Louis’ hands.

“Well,” Harry huffs, and leaves it at that in favor of arching his back, twisting his neck and pushing his face against the sheets. It’s not like he had much to add, anyway. He’s sputtering precome again, and if he could move them, he’d be tipping his hips up to meet Louis’ strokes.

Louis shakes his head. “Gorgeous,” he whispers, has to shift a little on Harry’s thighs because he’s so hard his dick’s rubbing painfully against the seam of his sweatpants. 

Harry peers at him through half-lidded eyes, shifts his glance down pointedly and back up. Even though he can’t really make out Louis’ crotch from here, he knows what he must look like, hard dick pushing against the fabric. “Yeah,” he hums, lips curving up at the corners.

“Come on, love,” Louis says, “you c’n do it.” His wrist is aching and his _dick_ is aching and more than either of those, he’s aching to kiss Harry again.

Feeling the tell-tale surging warmth in his tummy, Harry nods, closes his eyes and focuses on Louis’ touch. Louis _twists_ , presses down at just the right spot on the upstroke, and Harry grunts, “Close, Lou.”

Louis hums his approval and scoots carefully down Harry’s legs- he doesn’t let Harry spread them out, settles his knees like brackets outside Harry’s and leans forward to kiss at Harry’s tummy. His hand lets Harry’s dick bump his jaw, but only for a moment; he hasn’t shaved and he doesn’t want it to chafe. He leans down, instead, and holds the foreskin back to lick around the messy head.

“Shit, _shit_ ,” Harry whines, stretches his fingers out inside his pockets and wants so badly to slip them into Louis’ hair, to push him down and cant his hips up and wreck Louis’ voice, but he wouldn’t even if he had the time, not without Louis’ permission first. He comes with a flick of Louis’ tongue and a loud groan, and instead of pulling back, Louis just takes him into his mouth, strokes him loosely at the base, suckles at the head as Harry spills over his tongue.

Harry does take his hands out of his pockets, then, tugs hard on the hair at Louis’ crown and a bit of come catches his chin. He’s not- he couldn’t be angry about it if he tried.

“Sorry, sorry,” Louis gasps, and he’s surging up Harry’s body, licking into his mouth desperately; “sorry, Haz, just couldn’t- you’re so pretty, love, had to taste you, had to feel you on my tongue.”

Harry wonders, not for the first time, how Louis is even _real_. He can’t find his voice, though, ends up kissing him with his hands spread over his cheeks, shaky, palms a little damp with sweat.

Mouths still pressed together, Harry lowers a hand and pushes it inside Louis’ sweats and underwear, rubs his fingers over the head of Louis’ prick and grins when he breaks off on a desperate moan. “C’mon,” he spurs him, wraps his still-shaky hand around him and strokes. The angle is off with Louis’ body lined up with his, and his own cock is at risk of being touched much more than he’d like at the moment, but he _needs_ to feel Louis come.

Louis shudders and presses his forehead against Harry’s, breathes against his mouth and can’t help the noise he makes when he comes, just that easy, over Harry’s fingers. 

Eventually, the moment turns sticky, their shared heavy breathing and Harry’s wet hand stroking through his happy trail slowing down. Louis rolls off him carefully, minding that he doesn’t knee him or otherwise bump Harry’s soft cock, and he kisses Harry’s neck, forces himself to sit up. “I’ll get a flannel,” he tells Harry, squeezing his hand and moving for the bathroom. 

Harry feels shaky, his onesie sticking to his back with sweat. He belatedly realizes he can push his hair off his forehead now and does, knows it must be sticking up at a stupid angle and he must be flushed down to his chest, but he can’t help smiling and turning his head to watch the bathroom door and wait for Louis to come back so he can smile at him, because sometimes he’s much better at that than forming words.

Louis comes back and shucks his sweats and tee shirt at the edge of the bed, ignoring the mess of come that’s going tacky on his lower stomach and upper thighs to crawl over Harry one last time, gently run the flannel over the creases of his hips. “Can I?” he checks, nodding at his prick.

Harry eyes him warily and nods, blows Louis a kiss for his troubles.

Louis is careful but firm when he lifts Harry’s cock, gently dabbing around the head with the flannel; he knows better than to rub, but the soft patting-down works. “There we are,” he says, wiping around the base and through the soft, short hair trailing up and thinning out until it reaches Harry’s belly button. He gently settles Harry’s cock in the crease of his thigh and wipes his hands down on the flannel before starting on himself. “You wanna stay in that?” he asks, gesturing vaguely at Harry. “Y’look a bit sweaty, I could get another flannel.”

“‘m not very comfortable,” Harry admits, pinches the zipper that’s halfway up his chest and tugs it down. “Just, uh.” He’s clumsy, tugging at the cuffs, breathing slowly and furrowing his brows.

“C’mon,” Louis says, gently, and tugs Harry upright by the elbows, shoving the onesie off his shoulders and down around his waist. “Can you get your legs? I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, lets Louis peck him on the lips before heading for the bathroom again. It takes him a bit of focus, but he manages to kick the onesie off and spread out on the bed, relieved. The air that hits his skin feels cool and soothing and he hums to himself, content.

Louis comes back with a hand towel, this time, and one of the bath towels. “Alright, roll over a bit, love.” He nudges at Harry’s ribs until he gets onto his side, and then wipes him down with the cool, damp hand towel. Harry sways a little, and Louis has to hold him up with one hand while he spreads out the larger towel with the other, covering the wet spot Harry left sweating through his onesie, and then letting him lean back. “Can y’get my back, Haz? And then we’ll sleep, promise.”

Harry nods and takes the hand towel from Louis, pats at his back with it gently, slowly. “Sorry I’m kind of... useless,” he mumbles, but dries the sweat off of Louis’ back successfully and cheers.

Louis turns and takes the hand towel from him, tossing it to the floor and sending the onesie after it. He settles in beside Harry, slinging an arm over his waist and tapping his fingers at his side. “Not useless,” he says, softly. “Just sleepy, aren’t you, kitten?”

The nickname makes Harry laugh, tip his forehead against Louis’. “Yeah,” he says, and yawns as if to illustrate the point. “Sleepy. Love you.”

“I love you,” Louis echoes, “sweet dreams, Haz.”

“Thank you,” Harry nods, and falls asleep thinking about the bright lights of Tokyo and Louis’ blinding smile.


End file.
